Chapter : 669

  Her first, unfiltered, gut-level thought was not one of denial. It was a familiar, exasperated, and deeply ingrained reaction that had been honed over years of dealing with her older sibling.

  ‘Lloyd,’ she thought, a wave of profound weariness washing over her. ‘What in the world have you done now?’

  What new, spectacular act of foolishness, what bizarre social blunder, what inexplicable public incident had her brother managed to perpetrate that could possibly lead the Princess of the entire kingdom to believe their parents were hiding a spare heir in the attic? The sheer, imaginative scope of the potential disaster was almost impressive. Had he tried to pay for groceries with a bar of soap? Had he challenged the King to a duel over a bad haircut? Had he accidentally set fire to the Royal Library while trying to read a book? With Lloyd, the possibilities were, as always, terrifyingly endless.

  This internal, lightning-fast cascade of ‘What has Lloyd done?’ took only a second, but it was a second too long. In that brief, stunned silence, Isabella’s eyes sharpened further. She saw not confusion, but hesitation. A flicker of something she interpreted as guardedness, a sign that her wild, impossible question had, against all odds, hit a nerve.

  Jothi finally recovered, the absurdity of the situation crashing back in on her. “A secret brother?” she repeated, her voice flat with disbelief. “Your Highness, I can assure you, there is no one. It is only Lloyd and myself. My parents are not in the habit of misplacing their children.”

  Her denial was firm, absolute. But the damage was done. Her initial, split-second hesitation, born not of conspiracy but of pure, sibling-related exasperation, had been noted. It had been logged, analyzed, and filed away in the meticulous, and often tragically flawed, intelligence database that was Princess Isabella’s mind.

  “I see,” Isabella said, her tone now cool and distant. She did not look convinced. She looked like a predator who had just seen a flicker of movement in the tall grass. “My apologies for the indelicate question. There have been… strange occurrences. Rumors. I was merely seeking to clarify the facts.”

  She gave Jothi a stiff, formal nod. “Carry on with your studies, Lady Ferrum. And again, congratulations on your Ascension.”

  With that, the Princess turned and swept away, Captain Eva falling into step behind her like a loyal, heavily armed shadow. Jothi was left standing by the pond, her mind reeling.

  The encounter had been profoundly unsettling. Not because of the question itself, which was patently absurd, but because of the implication behind it. Something had happened. Something significant enough to plant the seed of this insane theory in the Princess’s mind. And Jothi knew, with the unshakeable certainty of a long-suffering sibling, that her infuriating, unpredictable, and suddenly god-like older brother was standing right at the center of it.

  She sighed, a long, weary sound that seemed to disturb the swans on the pond. Her newfound peace was shattered. She had returned to the Academy seeking sanctuary, only to find that the chaos that orbited Lloyd Ferrum had a gravitational pull that even the hallowed walls of this institution could not escape. And now, she was caught in its orbit too.

  Jothi watched Princess Isabella’s retreating form, a knot of deep unease tightening in her stomach. The Princess hadn't been asking a question; she had been conducting an interrogation, and Jothi felt, with a sinking certainty, that she had failed the test. Her momentary, stunned silence had been misinterpreted as concealment, her genuine confusion as a poorly crafted lie.

  This was the core of the problem with Isabella. The Princess possessed a brilliant, analytical mind, but it was a mind that operated on flawed, emotionally driven assumptions. Once she seized upon a theory, she would bend every subsequent piece of evidence to fit it, ignoring all contradictory data. She was a master of confirmation bias, and Jothi knew, with a chilling dread, that she had just handed her a new, glittering piece of "proof" for whatever grand, paranoid conspiracy she was currently constructing.

  A secret brother. The idea was so ludicrous it bordered on insulting. Did Isabella truly believe that her father, Arch Duke Roy Ferrum, a man whose entire being was a monument to tradition, honor, and the sanctity of the main bloodline, would engage in such a cheap, theatrical deception? Hiding an heir? It was the plot of a bad penny-dreadful novel, not a strategy befitting a Great House.

  Chapter : 670

  And yet… Jothi couldn't entirely dismiss the Princess’s concern. Isabella was impulsive and often wrong, but she was not a fool. For her to even formulate such a theory meant she had witnessed something that defied all rational explanation. And any event that defied rational explanation in the capital these days inevitably traced back to one person.

  Lloyd.

  Her enigmatic, infuriating, and utterly transformed brother.

  She thought back to the family Summit. She had watched him, this man who she had dismissed for years as a spineless disappointment, a "drab duckling," and had seen a stranger. He had moved with a quiet, unshakeable confidence. He had verbally dismantled their arrogant cousin Rayan before their duel even began. He had weathered Rayan’s Ascended-level assault, and then, when all seemed lost, he had unleashed a power so alien, so terrifying, that it had broken their cousin’s mind without leaving a physical scratch. The Black Ring Eyes of the Austin line, a power that was supposed to be a forgotten myth.

  Then there were the rumors, the whispers that had followed her even to the brutal grounds of the Azure Shield Tournament. Tales of the "White Mask," a mysterious, god-like warrior who had intervened at the Academy, commanding a demon of fire and wielding a power that could erase beings from existence. The descriptions of the White Mask’s power—the controlled fire, the overwhelming force—didn't match any known Ferrum ability.

  Could that be the source of Isabella’s suspicion? A new, unknown power user appears, and the Princess, in her frantic search for answers, concocts a theory about a secret Ferrum warrior? It was plausible. It fit Isabella’s tendency towards the dramatic.

  But it still didn't feel right. The timing was too coincidental. The sudden, volcanic eruption of Lloyd’s own hidden powers, followed immediately by the appearance of another, equally mysterious warrior? It stretched credulity.

  Unless…

  A new, deeply unsettling thought began to take root in Jothi’s mind, a thought far more disturbing than Isabella’s theory of a hidden sibling. What if there wasn't a secret brother? What if the White Mask and Lloyd were one and the same?

  The idea was insane. Utterly, completely insane. Lloyd, her clumsy, bookish brother, a god of fire? The man who, until a month ago, she believed couldn't win a fight against a determined housecat, was now a walking cataclysm? It made no sense. His powers were the Steel Blood and the Black Ring Eyes. The White Mask used fire. They were fundamentally different.

  And yet… the thought refused to be dismissed. She remembered the look in Lloyd’s eyes during the final moments of his duel with Rayan. It wasn't just the power of the Black Rings. It was something else. A cold, ancient confidence. The look of a seasoned warrior, a man who had seen a hundred battles and had won them all. It was the same look of absolute, terrifying command that the rumors attributed to the White Mask.

  Could he possess a second spirit? A spirit, perhaps, that was so secret even their own family didn't know about it? The idea that her brother, the man she thought she knew so well, had depths so profound and secrets so vast that he could be living a triple life was a concept that made her head spin.

  She shook her head, trying to clear the fog of conspiracy. She was starting to think like Isabella. The simplest explanation was usually the correct one. And the simplest explanation was that her brother was an endless source of trouble, and his recent antics had somehow led the Princess down a rabbit hole of her own making.

  Still, the seed of doubt was planted. She looked at her own hands, at the faint, shimmering aura of her own newly Ascended power. She had worked her entire life for this strength, had bled for it, had dedicated every waking moment to upholding the honor of her house. And her brother… her brother seemed to have stumbled into a power that could eclipse her own, and the entire kingdom’s, as if by accident.

  It was infuriating. It was humbling. And it was, she had to admit, just a little bit terrifying.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Chapter : 671

  She turned away from the pond, her mind made up. She could not get involved in Isabella’s wild goose chase. She had her own path to walk, her own strength to hone. But from now on, she would be watching her brother. Not with the disdain of an older sister for a failed sibling, but with the cautious, analytical eye of a fellow warrior trying to understand the true nature of a new, unpredictable, and overwhelmingly powerful piece on the board. The drab duckling had somehow become a dragon, and Jothi knew it was long past time she started taking that dragon seriously.

  The study was a pressure cooker. The air was thick with a tension so profound it was almost a physical force. The five women of Lloyd’s inner circle—Mei Jing, Tisha, Jasmin, Martha Junior, and Pia—sat around the large oak table, their faces a gallery of confusion, concern, and dawning apprehension. Lloyd had summoned them with an urgency that spoke of a crisis, and the grave, cold expression on his face did nothing to dispel that notion.

  He stood before them, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture as rigid and unyielding as a drill sergeant’s. The warm, approachable leader they had come to know was gone, replaced by a man radiating an aura of cold, quiet authority that was more intimidating than any outburst of rage could ever be.

  “I have called you here,” he began, his voice a low, level baritone that cut through the silence, “because our house has been compromised. Our trust has been violated. We have a traitor in our midst.”

  The statement landed with the force of a physical blow. A collective gasp went through the room. Tisha’s hand flew to her mouth, her cheerful face paling to a ghostly white. Mei Jing’s sharp, intelligent eyes widened in shock, her mind immediately racing to calculate the potential damage. Jasmin and Martha Junior exchanged terrified, bewildered glances. Only Pia remained utterly still, her face a blank, bloodless mask, her hands clenched into tight fists in her lap.

  “As you know,” Lloyd continued, his gaze sweeping over them, cold and impersonal, “Project Brine is of vital strategic importance to the future of this house. Its secrets were known only to the people in this room, and to myself. And yet, three days ago, I received confirmed intelligence that a rival consortium, backed by Altamiran gold, has begun construction of their own solar evaporation facility. Their methodology is not just similar to ours; it is identical, down to the most minute, proprietary details.”

  He let the damning fact hang in the air, a public indictment. “The leak did not come from outside. It came from within. One of you, a person I trusted, a person I empowered, has sold our future to our most bitter enemies.”

  The room was plunged into a horrified, accusing silence. Each woman looked at the others, suspicion and disbelief warring in their eyes. The trust that had bound them together as a team, as a family, was shattering before their very eyes.

  “I knew confronting you directly would be pointless,” Lloyd said, his voice dropping even lower. “The guilty party would deny it, and the innocent would be wounded by the accusation. A direct approach would only destroy the morale of this team. So, I chose a different path. I decided to set a trap.”

  He began to pace slowly before them, his footsteps the only sound in the tense room. “I told you of a new, even more valuable secret. A project so revolutionary it would make Project Brine seem like a child’s game. A project I called ‘Sunstone.’”

  He saw the flicker of recognition in their eyes. The memory of that heady, exciting meeting was still fresh in their minds. The dream of a world without famine, the promise of absolute power.

  “Project Sunstone,” Lloyd stated, his voice flat and devoid of all its previous passion, “is a complete and utter fabrication. It does not exist. The alchemical principles are nonsense. The engineering schematics are gibberish. The entire project was a lie, a piece of beautifully crafted bait designed for a single purpose: to identify the leak in our organization.”

  The second bombshell was even more devastating than the first. They had been lied to, manipulated by their own leader. But the shock of that deception was quickly eclipsed by the chilling realization of what it meant.

  Chapter : 672

  “I created a set of false documents,” Lloyd explained, his voice as sharp and cold as a shard of ice. “I made sure you were all aware of their feigned importance and their location. And then, I had the study placed under silent, continuous surveillance. I waited to see which of you would be greedy enough, or desperate enough, to take the bait.”

  He stopped his pacing. He was standing directly behind Pia’s chair. The air grew so cold it was almost difficult to breathe. The other four women turned their heads slowly, their gazes, a mixture of horror and dawning comprehension, all zeroing in on the small, quiet woman who now seemed to be shrinking into herself.

  Lloyd’s gaze, however, was fixed on a simple, bound ledger that lay on the center of the table. It was the report Ken Park had delivered to him that morning. With a slow, deliberate movement, he reached out and flipped it open to a specific page.

  “The trap,” he said, his voice now a quiet, deathly whisper, “was a success.”

  He looked up from the ledger, and for the first time since the meeting began, he allowed his gaze to settle on a single person. He looked directly at Pia, and the cold, impersonal authority in his eyes was replaced by something far worse: a look of profound, quiet, and utterly devastating disappointment.

  Pia’s world dissolved into a roaring, colorless void. His gaze was a physical weight, crushing the air from her lungs. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. There was only the terrible, silent judgment in her lord's eyes.

  As if to formalize her sentence, Lloyd began to read from the open ledger on the table, his voice calm and clear, each word a hammer blow against the fragile shell of her composure.

  "Asset: Pia. Status: Confirmed traitor."

  "Methodology: Covert entry using forged key and cleaning duties as pretext."

  "Execution: Successful transcription of targeted intelligence onto a specialized micro-scroll."

  "Conclusion: Asset is an amateur, emotionally compromised, but equipped with professional-grade tools. This indicates she is a pawn, not a player."

  He finished reading and closed the ledger with a soft, final thud.

  The silence that followed was absolute.

  And in that silence, Pia broke.

  The cold, clinical words from the report echoed in the study, each one a nail being hammered into Pia’s coffin. "Confirmed traitor." "Pawn, not a player." The dispassionate, analytical language of espionage stripped away all her pathetic justifications, leaving only the bare, ugly truth of what she had done.

  She felt the eyes of the other women on her, a physical, burning weight. She saw the shock and horror on Tisha’s face, the cold, calculating fury dawning in Mei Jing’s eyes. But worst of all was Jasmin. Her friend. The look on Jasmin’s face was not one of anger, but of a deep, profound, and shattered hurt. It was a look of pure, uncomprehending betrayal, and it was the blow that finally broke Pia’s soul.

  A sound, a ragged, ugly sob, tore its way out of her throat. It was the sound of a dam breaking, of a lifetime of fear, guilt, and suppressed misery erupting in a single, catastrophic flood. The carefully constructed mask of the quiet, diligent worker shattered into a million pieces, revealing the terrified, broken girl beneath.

  She slid from her chair, collapsing to the floor in a weeping, trembling heap. The room, the table, the accusing faces of her colleagues—it all dissolved into a blurry, tear-streaked nightmare.

  “I’m sorry,” she wailed, the words muffled by her hands. “I’m so sorry… I never wanted… I had no choice…”

  Lloyd watched her, his expression unreadable. He remained standing, a silent, imposing figure of judgment. He did not offer comfort. He did not offer condemnation. He simply waited, allowing her confession to spill out into the open, a necessary poison being lanced from a festering wound.

  “They made me do it,” she sobbed, her body wracked with tremors. “They have my family.”

  Mei Jing let out a sharp, cynical hiss. “A classic excuse. Do you take us for fools?”

  “Be silent, Mei,” Lloyd commanded, his voice soft but carrying an authority that instantly cut off her protest. He knelt down, not in a gesture of sympathy, but to bring himself to Pia’s level, to ensure he heard every word. “Explain,” he said, his tone still cold, but no longer accusing. It was the voice of an interrogator seeking information. “Who is ‘they’? And what do they have on your family?”